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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28208271">Open Ended Life</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/IambicKentameter/pseuds/IambicKentameter'>IambicKentameter</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Merlin (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arthur is Obsessed with Merlin's Magic, Basically the plot of 2.2 but gayer and with football, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Football | Soccer, Implied Mpreg, M/M, Modern Magic, Modern Royalty, Prince!Arthur, Spy/secret agent!Merlin, footballer!Arthur, magic government agency, magical sex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-11 00:27:35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,072</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28208271</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/IambicKentameter/pseuds/IambicKentameter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Prince Arthur yearns to prove himself outside of his position in the royal family, and when Manchester United hosts a rare bout of open try outs, he hires Merlin, a government agent in the secret magical division, to glamour his face and act as a personal bodyguard.</p>
<p>Merlin could not be more annoyed with the job, but with the promise of an ambiguous promotion at work, and Morgana's stilettos on his balls, he takes it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>154</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Round Table Gift Exchange 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Open Ended Life</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/divine529/gifts">divine529</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This will be obvious by reading the fic, but I know nothing about Football/soccer, American or otherwise.</p>
<p>My giftee gave a pretty good long list of ideas to choose from, and I'm sure any normal person would pick like, one, but I made an effort to do as many as possible, because I'm a masochist.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There was a cramped Cuban restaurant across the street from the MI6 annex building that was frequented almost exclusively by agents.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not that the restaurateurs knew that was their clientele, surely they just thought the people who worked in that building were naturally quiet people who enjoyed their solitude, perhaps they all just had abnormally delicate eyes and needed to wear sunglasses indoors all the time, like they were in some sort of bad spy movie.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>One such group found themselves there on a monday afternoon, nestled in between the lunch rush and the few strangers that might find themselves in such a restaurant on a whim as they walked home from work.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A woman, dressed business formal but with sensible shoes (Morgana) was accompanied by a tall gentleman in sunglasses and hoodie, (Arthur), very conspicuously attempting to remain inconspicuous.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They sat at a table for three facing the wall, an odd choice for normal people but a fairly standard choice amongst this particular restaurant's regulars.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were joined shortly by another man in sunglasses, this one in slacks and a well fitting leather jacket (Merlin), shaggy hair neatly curling off to one side.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The guy in he hoodie stood to greet him, and they were introduced by the woman between them</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Merlin, meet Arthur. Arthur, Merlin.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They shook hands across the table, then sat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morgana took the seat between them and leaned back, legs and arms both crossed. “Well?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not sure where you want me to start.” Arthur said, frowning at his sister.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll go then.” Merlin leaned forward, hands folded together. “You’re Arthur, Crown Prince of England and next in line for the throne. I’m Merlin, I work for MI6, and you’re about to hire me for whatever mystery job necessitates a trained secret agent in his majesty’s royal service.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur nodded along with what he was saying. “Yes, yes, all correct. Perfect. So we have an agreement?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morgana stifled a laugh.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin caught the laugh, but said nothing, focusing in his trained gaze on Arthur. “Not quite, your highness.” He said this with an ounce of derision that did not settle well in Arthur’s stomach. “I’m a top agent in my field, and I am very much looking forward to a promotion to Quartermaster by the end of the year. Morgana </span>
  <em>
    <span>implied</span>
  </em>
  <span> that this position would be good for me, but in order to </span>
  <em>
    <span>guarantee</span>
  </em>
  <span> that, I’d like to know what </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly </span>
  </em>
  <span>I’m signing up for.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morgana’s ever-present smirk intensified, and she directed it toward Arthur. “Go on Arthur. Tell him about the job.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur hesitated before blurting his plan out all in one breath. “I need you to act as my personal bodyguard so I can sneak into Manchester United’s open tryouts.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin gave him the span of a blink to say… Anything else.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t. Just… blinked back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, I’m leaving.” he said, standing up so quickly that his chair screeched across the floor and hit the opposite wall, which really wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> impressive, the place was just that small.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, wait-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin brushed off the hand that had snatched his upper arm. “This is an insane waste of government spending and my time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Merlin,” Morgana interjected. “Sit. Down. Hear him out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin shut his eyes and counted to ten. He made it to six before Morgana interrupted again. “Sit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin sighed heavily, before obeying. He gestured vaguely for Arthur to continue.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The tryouts are tomorrow, And I think, I truly think that if I’m given a chance to go, on my own, without my father, I can make it on the team. If I’m wrong, consider your job well done.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s going to go with or without you.” Morgana chided. “However, if you take the job, he’s much less likely to be found out, or worse, die.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not sure that’s the worst of the two options.” Merlin grumbled, earning himself a kick under the table.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How about I make this easy for you then, Merlin?” Morgana hissed. “You’re on that bus tomorrow with Arthur, or you’re out of a job.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His phone died 12 minutes into the bus ride, he’d forgotten to charge it the night before, because of course he did. All he had was a dime store romance novel Morgana slipped into his shoulder bag as a joke, and the company of the stupidest man on the planet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At least Arthur let him have the window seat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was fairly peaceful, until about 18 minutes into the drive Arthur got bored of playing on his own phone and started prodding Merlin with inane questions. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you sure no one is going to recognise me? I’m fairly recognisable.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sure.” He said shortly. He’d slaved over the glamour Arthur was unwittingly wearing for seven hours last night, deriving the spell from some transformation crystals they’d ‘confiscated’ from some human traffickers pretending to be Agents Ethan and Oswald a few years back. Uther’s continuing push for the criminalisation of magic sure was a bitch, but it gave Merlin’s department the </span>
  <em>
    <span>coolest</span>
  </em>
  <span> gadgets.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur leaned in close to him, whispering conspicuously. “How’d you do it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do what?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Make sure I wouldn’t be recognised.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin tried very, very hard not to roll his eyes and failed very very badly. “That is top secret information, Arthur.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Morgana… told me, you know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She told you what?” Merlin hummed, turning a page in his dime novel nonchalantly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“About the, uh,” He leaned in, entirely too close, to whisper, entirely too loudly: “Secret division.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin rolled his eyes. “Yeah, uh, it’s called a </span>
  <em>
    <span>secret </span>
  </em>
  <span>division for a reason, so if you could just…” He tapped an index finger to his lips. “Thanks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur sighed, rolling his head back onto the head rest and swaying it back and forth. “We should ditch the bus at the next changeover. Call a limo company, something nice. We deserve to treat ourselves.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He took a deep breath, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Arthur, we’ve been here less than twenty minutes.” Nineteen minutes, to be exact. Merlin was still counting. “This is the only way to the stadium, and we will not be… ‘changing over’.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He slouched lower into his seat like a child. “Well, if we’ve still got time to burn, maybe you could tell me about your job.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right now?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur nodded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Currently, my job is babysitting one of the least effectual monarchs in our country’s history, in some vague attempt to assuage his ego by auditioning for footie of all things.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was met with a furious gaping look from the prince, who opened his mouth three or four times in quick succession, though no sound came out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur outperformed every one of his fellow auditionees, because of course he did. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin sat in the stands with the others, fellow families, casual spectators, and the like. He spent the first 30 minutes, while the players were changing, anxiously tapping his foot on the bleachers and sending out the odd magical tendril.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually</span>
  </em>
  <span> nervous about Arthur. There wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually</span>
  </em>
  <span> a threat against Arthur’s life, and as most of the British public knew nothing of the Prince’s whereabouts on a good day, lest he accidentally stumble into a shop during a morning jog sans sunglasses, he was in little danger to be outed now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wasn’t nervous about Arthur’s performance during the try outs either; he couldn’t give a toss. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And so when Arthur outperformed them all, as expected, the sudden and overwhelming sense of relief that Merlin felt wasn’t over Arthur’s victory. Of course it wasn’t, that would be silly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The team swarmed Arthur excitedly, jumping all over him like puppies before picking him up and quite literally carrying him out of the stadium.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was so caught up in the merriment that he completely forgot who he was, and Merlin for that matter. The boys were celebrating, they were celebrating </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and not for anything other than his own skills. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The locker room was full to bursting with players, both official members and those who hadn’t made the cut, dejectedly packing their things.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>One of the players he’d met during the skirmish, Lancelot, was berating one of the other teammates when he entered, the rest of the room trying not to look like they were eavesdropping and failing miserably.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It's bad luck mate.” Lance insisted. “You can’t have women in the locker room, it doesn’t matter if she’s a groupie or not.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” The first guy, who Arthur would later learn was called Gwaine, insisted. “She’s wonderful, Lance, she’s a great girl, I bet she knows more than you about Football, even.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gwaine turned to Arthur, pointing at him and leveling him with a serious look. “Back me up here new guy, we should be able to bring girls into the locker room, yeah?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur, wide eyed and on the spot, had no idea what to say. There was something about a lifetime of thirst tweets, arranged marriage threats, and a father dunking him in the proverbial river styx of toxic masculinity at a very young age that left him impervious to the idea of women. He was left only with his proverbial Achilles heel: Pretty boys with dark hair and thick lips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But he couldn’t say that, could he? Couldn’t come out for the first time </span>
  <em>
    <span>in his life, mind you </span>
  </em>
  <span>(Save for that time at boarding school. And Uni. But that was abroad, with a french guy no less. Didn’t count, did it?) to a room of total and complete strangers. Footballers. Future teammates.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I… I don’t really have a dog in this fight.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gwaine gave a dramatic sigh that involved both of his arms being thrown into the air. “C’mon Arthur! Surely you want to show a girl off to the lads after the match!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was at this fortuitous moment that the door to the locker room burst open, Merlin barrelling through with a security guard not far behind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sir! I told you, No coaches, no managers, and no parents!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin spun around and opened his mouth to say something no doubt venomous, but Arthur interrupted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s with me!” He blurted, without thinking. “He’s not a manager or anything, he’s with me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All eyes in the locker room were on him, unwavering and unblinking, until a barking laugh from Gwaine broke the silence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No dog in our fight indeed!” He said with a good natured laugh, waving off the security guard as he did. “This one’s fine, then. No bad luck to be had.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin shot him a confused gaze, and Arthur shook his head. “Yeah, Gwaine, you got it.” He said with a nervous laugh. “This is uh, this is my boyfriend. Merlin, I made the team.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin’s look of abject horror and confusion was quickly replaced with a tight smile. He was trying, at least, to go along with whatever the hell all this was. “Yes! Babe… I saw, I was in the stands!” He approached Arthur, giving him a stilted pat on the shoulder. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gwaine bounded up to him, giving him a heavy pat on the back. “I appreciate the caution, but there’s no need for it here, mate. There’s no room for bigotry on the field, and there’s no room for it here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin gave him an empty smile. “Uh, thanks, but I’m not exactly comfortable expressing my… love for Arthur… in public.” He turned back to Arthur, giving him a sterile nod. “I’ll meet you out by the bus?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur nodded dumbly, still not entirely sure how they’d gotten to this point. God, his head was spinning, the room was spinning. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What the fuck was that?” Merlin snapped the moment he walked through the sliding doors. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have no idea, he said it, I just went along.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, it’s the least of our problems.” Merlin said with a sigh. “You made it on the team.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Merlin, that was the </span>
  <em>
    <span>point</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” He waved both fists in the air excitedly. “I did it! I am worth more than my father’s name!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You mean the man who knows nothing about this? The man who will quite literally have my head, possibly even use this as the final straw to disband my entire department!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ll just… tell him that I need to leave for a bit. Like go into witness protection or something.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin rolled his eyes. “I can’t just send an email and take you out of play, do you not understand how your own government works? To get you into ‘witness protection or whatever’ we’d need like, a threat on your life.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur gave Merlin a knowing smirk. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck you.” Merlin spat. “Fuck you! I’m not faking out the </span>
  <em>
    <span>king of England</span>
  </em>
  <span> so you can, I cannot reiterate this enough, play </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking footie</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where is he?!” Uther’s voice boomed down the hall from the MA division lab.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your majesty.” Merlin said automatically, bowing his head as the King burst into the room unexpectedly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You,” He said with a snap of his fingers in Merlin’s direction. “Tell me what happened.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We have the situation under control sir.” He said quickly. “My team and I isolated the threat, tracked the IP address and are monitoring all surveillance in the area. So far no one has come in or out of the building.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So you’ve done nothing.” He growled, taking a single menacing step towards Merlin. “My son’s life has been threatened, and you have done nothing to protect him but press a few buttons!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Arthur has already been taken to a safe location, your majesty.” Morgana interrupted, appearing from her office without so much as a click-clack from her stilettos. “We moved him as soon as we uncovered the message.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank god </span>
  <em>
    <span>someone </span>
  </em>
  <span> around here is doing their job.” He growled, marching out of the room as quickly as he had marched in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur slid out from the closet in Morgana’s office as soon as the door shut behind his father, peeking out cautiously. “Is he gone?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He was never going to look in the closet, dumbass.” Morgana seethed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s fitting, though.” Merlin countered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Question still stands though, where are we going to put you?” She asked. “If we call WITSEC, you’ll have plainclothes crawling all over you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh problem solved.” Arthur said, leaning up against a table filled with </span>
  <em>
    <span>highly experimental magical items</span>
  </em>
  <span> all nonchalant, crossing his stupid buff arms over his stupid buff chest like a prat. “I’ve got a flat in the city, I sneak out every once in a while.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morgana rolled her eyes. “Okay, great. That works.” She shooed them away with a wave of her hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do I have time to pack?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll drop off a bag.” She assured him in a way that was not at all reassuring. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His flat was small, but not unpleasant or cramped. Its bedroom was separate from the living room and kitchen area, that was a plus, and the windowsill featured an adorable planter box filled with low-maintenance plants he’d picked up from a local shop. It was essentially an attic complete with slanted ceilings and limited light sources, but it was cozy, and private. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur set down his duffel bag and turned to check on Merlin, who was hovering in the doorway with a slack jaw and a dumb look on his face. “You seem surprised.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, it’s... not a hovel.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m a man of very fine taste.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Debatable.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I chose you as my fake boyfriend, didn’t I?” He said, unable to hold back the cheeky half grin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you’ll recall, I’m actually a victim of circumstance on that one.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur stifled a laugh, making his way to the kitchen. “Trust me, I wouldn’t have claimed you if you weren’t at least an 8.” He said, looking through the cabinets for some tea and missing Merlin’s eye roll and mocking mouthing of what he was saying. “Looks like we’ve got nothing in, I’m going to head down to the shops. Do you want anything?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin shook his head. “I’ll be fine, probably get some takeaway later.” He said with a dismissive wave.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When Arthur returned, his heart sank a bit to find the couch made up as a sort of makeshift bed. It was an odd feeling, especially because, what, did he honestly expect Merlin to share a bed with him? Was that even a thought that crossed his mind?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their first week together in the flat was… quiet. Arthur went to practise every day, so every day Merlin glamoured him, locked up the flat both manually and magically, sat in the stands watching him for 6 hours, and then walked a step behind him back to what Arthur was already thinking of as ‘their place’.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They ate dinner together in front of the tv every night, silently, exchanging only a few platitudes during commercial breaks. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Morgana called him on the second monday, while he was sitting in the bleachers reading through that same book she’d slipped in his bag. It was compelling. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His phone buzzed. Morgana, again, for the third time today.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sighed and left the stadium, ducking into an abandoned hallway. “Morgana, what-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mr. Emrys, I expected a call from you a week ago.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin nearly choked on his tongue. “Y-Your majesty?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How goes the search for my son’s assailant?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, uh, great, actually.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So you have his identity?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, in this case, it’s more of a ‘no news is good news situation. The threats have died down, so we are hoping Arthur will be able to return any day now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Any day now?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Any day now.” He repeated in an attempt to reassure him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The entryway down the hall began to warm with raucous laughter and hollering.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shit, uh, gotta go!” He blurted, hanging up just as the team of sweaty footballers barged into the locker room, dancing around him in a large circle and all screaming at the top of their lungs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Merlin!” Arthur bellowed, barreling into him without any warning. “Did you see that? Did you see that shot my god it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>incredible!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin shrugged and pointed to his phone. “No, sorry, I was, uh, busy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur slowed his jumping, grin falling. “It wasn’t…” The ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>my father</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ was unspoken yet implied. “...was it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin nodded. “And I may have accidentally… hung up on him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You didn’t.”</span>
</p>
<p><span>“I did.”</span> <span>He gave Arthur an uneasy false grin. </span></p>
<p>
  <span>He groaned. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Please </span>
  </em>
  <span>tell me you didn’t say anything stupid.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I said there hadn’t been any more death threats, but we are going to continue to lay low.” He shrugged. “So... not technically a lie?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Arthur!” One of his teammates bound over, throwing an arm over each of them. “Are you coming along?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin turned on Arthur, both eyebrows raised expectantly. “I don’t know, Arthur, are you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, don’t be a priss, Merl, you’re invited too!” The guy said, shaking Merlin in his excitement. “Can’t very well leave out the Mrs!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What the hell is going on here?” Merlin asked, less of Arthur, and more of the universe.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oof, sorry mate,” He stuck out his hand for Merlin to shake. “Name’s Gwaine, Center back. Arthur’s told us all about you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Has he.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have.” Arthur said with a tight grin. “What young man in a happy, healthy relationship wouldn’t talk about his boyfriend to his mates?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s endless, too.” Gwaine said in what he thought was helpfully. “Don’t worry, nothing bad! All good things from this happy camper.” He jostled Arthur roughly. “Drinks?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>talked</span>
  </em>
  <span> about me?” Merlin hissed, dragging Arthur back as the rest of the team flooded into the pub.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not like I can go 10 hours with the lads </span>
  <em>
    <span>without </span>
  </em>
  <span>talking about a man I’m supposedly in love with!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes! You can! You could, I don’t know, focus on practising?” Merlin huffed. “It’s no wonder this is the first game you’ve won, you spend the whole time yapping about a man who doesn’t exist!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What the fuck are you on about?! You exist, Merlin, you’re standing right in front of me!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean </span>
  <em>
    <span>this!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” He gestured flagrantly between the two of them. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>We</span>
  </em>
  <span> do not exist.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What the hell do you want me to do about it?!” Arthur hissed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know, shut the fuck up, maybe?” He snapped. “I shouldn’t go in there with you, it’ll only make this whole thing worse.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur grabbed his arm just as he turned away. “You can’t! It’ll seem like there’s... trouble in paradise!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So what if it is?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re a superstitious lot, Merlin. If one of us is having bad luck off the field it’s bound to affect us inside!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin jerked his arm out of Arthur’s grip. “You can tell them we made up tomorrow morning, I’ll see you back at your place.” He gave a wave over his shoulder and walked away before Arthur could get another word in edgewise.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You left him alone?!” Morgana screeched so loudly Merlin nearly dropped the phone. “You had </span>
  <em>
    <span>one job</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Literally one! This is your job, on paper, and it says </span>
  <em>
    <span>do not leave prince Arthur alone.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s not alone, he’s with the rest of the team! No one knows it’s him, his glamour is holding strong, I don’t see the problem!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The connection was clouded with static, which Merlin only later realised was Morgana sighing loudly. “I will pull you from this assignment, I swear to god.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good! This is a stupid job guarding a stupid prat with a stupid plan!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’d reconsider that position, Merlin. An agent pulled from an assignment so close to a round of review… Well. You know by now.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She hung up and Merlin tossed his head back into the couch cushions. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur returned around 3am, and announced his entrance by knocking over something loud and nondescript that Merlin sincerely hoped wasn’t a potted plant.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The agent groaned, sitting straight up to glare at the prince. “Welcome back. You took your time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s the first win of the season, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Mer</span>
  </em>
  <span>lin, I’m allowed to loosen up.” Arthur grumbled, kicking off first one shoe then the other. “And after you </span>
  <em>
    <span>left</span>
  </em>
  <span> me outside the pub, I’m allowed a little more loosening up than I am…” He hiccupped. “...Ordinarily accustomed to.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How much did you drink?” Merlin tossed off his blanket and stood face to face with Arthur. “You do realise we aren’t actually, uh, involved, correct?”</span>
</p>
<p><span>“Oh, who </span><em><span>cares</span></em> <em><span>Mer</span></em><span>lin?” Arthur stumbled towards him, backing him away from the door. “Who </span><em><span>cares</span></em><span> how much we drank, who </span><em><span>cares </span></em><span>about who knows which version of the truth?”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>“Given that one of those versions of the ‘truth’ is actually a lie…?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It doesn’t have to be.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin didn’t have the time to react to the statement before Arthur’s lips enveloped his while broad, strong hands cupped his cheeks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It didn’t take him long to realise what the hell was going on and shove Arthur away. “What the hell?!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Surely you feel it, Merlin, surely you feel this heat between us! Who’s to say we shouldn’t act on it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So many things. So many, Arthur, I can’t begin to list them.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then don’t.” Arthur said, leaning in again for another kiss, but Merlin caught his face in time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Arthur! What the hell has gotten into you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re just so… so rare, Merlin. You’re fascinating and mysterious and sassy-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sassy?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, you’re feisty. You don’t care that I’ll be King one day, you just say whatever’s on your mind. And by god, your </span>
  <em>
    <span>magic</span>
  </em>
  <span>, that’s-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin shushed him, mostly out of habit, but also dreading whatever would come out of the Prince’s mouth next. “You need to cool off. Go, into the shower with you, then off to bed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ll join me, won’t you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin groaned, shoving Arthur into his room and muttering a spell to lock the door from the outside.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He threw himself onto the futon, heaving a sigh of combined frustration and relief. It was going to be a long night.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The next day they were back at the field, Arthur faking a headache and hangover as best he could. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d only had three pints the night before, and coupled it with a pie at that (it was only okay) and as such, was not nearly as drunk as he had let on the night before.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was a stupid idea, and he'd arsed it up entirely. Pretending to be drunk, kissing Merlin, it was such a childish move.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Arthur!” Gwaine’s voice snapped him out of his haze. “Are you there mate? It’s me, Margret.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, sorry, bit of a doozy last night, eh boys?” He said humorlessly, rubbing the back of his neck.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t say. What was all that between you and Merlin about?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, that? Don’t worry about that, he was just… getting a bit jealous, that’s all. I sorted it out when I got back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gwaine gave him a knowing smirk. “I’m sure you did.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean, he still wasn’t too happy that I stayed out as long as I did, but…” Arthur’s mind wandered, imagined a world where he’d kissed Merlin the way he should have. “But god, when we make up, we make up.” He was going to hell for this. “Merlin’s like a firecracker. He pents all his frustration up, tries to keep a cool head, but you can tell underneath he’s boiling. The trick is to make sure that when he does eventually spill over, it’s on your face.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oh fuck, Gwaine wasn’t laughing. Just staring. Had he crossed a line? Even Percy behind him was making a face, had he seriously overshot the lad talk that badly?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A throat cleared behind him. He didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. He’d seen movies.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh fuck.” This one he said out loud. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Arthur, can I speak to you outside?” Merlin’s voice was taught. “Alone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The locker room filled with ‘oooohs’, like they were back in pre-school again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur followed him into the hallway begrudgingly, an apology already on his lips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve decided I don’t care.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur did a double take. “You wh-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do and say whatever you want. You wanted to do this to get away from your dad, and it’s becoming painfully obvious that being ‘out’ around people is doing wonders for your mood. So, do what you want, say what you want about me, I don’t care.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I… I don’t… uh, thanks Merlin.” He chuckled hollowly. “We should, uhm, celebrate the big win.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought that’s what last night was all about.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean you and me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin stared at him blankly. “I’m not sure what your end goal here is.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I just want to spend some time with you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes narrowed. “If this is your way of cornering me into telling you more about my work, it’s not happening.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur hit him with the doe eyes. It had only worked the once so far, Merlin seeming to have grown immune to it ever since their first pizza night in front of the TV.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin sighed. Holy shit, was it working?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“One dinner. Out. You’re paying, I get to pick the place.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And I get to ask whatever I want?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Only until the check comes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur mentally punched the air. “Fantastic. Text me where you want to go, I’ll see you after practise!” Arthur shot a finger gun after him before darting off.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin just ended up googling the most expensive restaurant in Manchester, some fine dining French restaurant in a hotel of all things. He was sure it was going to be some combination of disgusting and not enough food, but the crown was paying, he could order a pizza when they got back to the flat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur had this odd little smirk on his stupid prat face when they got in the cab and Merlin told the cabbie where they were going. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So you’ve heard of it?” Merlin asked, only half surprised.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The head chef is… a friend of the family.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cheeky.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur jostled him playfully, but avoided eye contact. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin frowned. Something was off about him. Sure, most nights between them passed in silence, but that silence wasn’t nearly as… palpable.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In fact, Arthur did not speak again until they were seated at a table for two next to the window. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur stared out the window, a dreamy glaze over his eyes, and he sighed. “This could almost be romantic, you know… Maybe if it were snowing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t make it snow.” Merlin said quickly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur narrowed his eyes at him. “Bullshit, yes you can.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>can</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” He grumbled. “But not </span>
  <em>
    <span>here</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It’s July, someone will see.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fair play.” He was playing with the rim of his wine glass, though it was bereft of wine. “Let’s say we were alone, though. Is there anything you couldn’t do?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“By myself?” Merlin mused. “There’s a lot I can’t do by myself, but if there’s anything the division has taught me, it’s that there’s always something. A relic, an ancient spell, magic has infinite solutions to infinite problems.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Feels like life would be a lot easier without all the secrecy, then.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin gave him a knowing head tilt, but said nothing, as their waiter arrived with a bottle of wine they had not selected. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur covered his glass with his hand. “I shouldn’t, not during the season.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can we see a menu?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Both Arthur and the Waiter stifled a laugh. “I’m so sorry sir, your meal will be decided by the chef. 11 courses of french new wave cuisine, followed by a dessert, should you choose.” The waiter explained. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We won’t be needing it, thank you.” Merlin said with a grimace that was definitely trying to be a smile, but failing miserably. “And you can leave the bottle.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur at least waited until the man was gone before he continued with his questioning. “I can ask anything, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You have until I finish my meal and the check comes. Free reign. After that, the tab gets paid, and we go back to our previous arrangement.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We had a previous arrangement?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I make sure your father doesn’t find out about this, and you leave me alone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Deal.” Arthur said quickly, leaning forward eagerly. “Tell me everything about your job.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s an easy one. Currently I’ve been hired to cater to the childish whims of a selfish monarch.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur rolled his eyes. “What do you do normally, when you’re not using a poor defenseless prince with a dream to further your career goals?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ve been to the lab, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur nodded, but with a half shrug. “Everything was under literal wraps when I was there, though. You’d draped sheets over everything.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How many times do I have to tell you my job is </span>
  <em>
    <span>classified?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“At least once more.” Arthur’s smirk hit… different this time. Maybe it was the general candlelit atmosphere of the restaurant or the wine, but he seemed... softer. “What’s in the lab?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Magical objects. Your father confiscates them from all over the country, and we… reverse engineer the magic. Usually we try to distill it into a spell for quick use, though that’s usually not as potent.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is there a way to make it just as strong?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Giving it a focus, something physical to latch onto, usually helps. Unfortunately, Amber is the best element for magical absorption, but it makes for the gaudiest jewelry imaginable.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So you have to wear it in order to do the spell?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, it’s more for things like magical effects. Extra strength, faster healing, things like that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur spent most of the meal asking inane questions like these, to which Merlin answered inanely. The food was… not good enough to justify the price tag, but it turned out it was… kind of fun, complaining about his job to someone who wasn’t Morgana and also His Boss. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur was equally as frustrated that Merlin wasn’t doing more, it seemed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Think of all the medical advancements, think of the good it would do the impoverished and the sick and the hungry!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right?!” Merlin agreed enthusiastically. “Magic is a tool, the greatest tool in the world, and Uther hides it behind lead lined walls.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I could… I could do that, you know.” Arthur said softly, leaning forward like it was a secret, which he supposed it was. “After I’m King… We could work together. The two of us, we could start introducing it to the world.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The waiter chose this moment to interrupt their 11th and final course, sweeping the small dishes away. “Are we ready for the cheque?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur looked to Merlin expectantly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Actually, I’d love to see a dessert menu.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur chuckled, gaze diverting to his folded hands on the tabletop. “That is, if my father actually names me his successor.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He hasn’t actually…?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur shook his head. “He’s very insistent upon the idea that I’m married first, preferably with a child on the way.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But you’re…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Entirely repulsed by women, yes.” He sighed. “I mean, you say magic is a tool, you say it has endless possibilities, could it…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Could magic help?” Merlin finished for him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur nodded. “It seems impossible, but-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll look into it.” Merlin said quickly, cutting him off. “I mean, I can do some cursory research. Not now, obviously, but-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> Arthur reached out, covering Merlin’s hand with one of his own.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The flat was pitch black when they returned. Merlin wandered forward confidently, having already memorized the layout their first night there. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur was caught in the entryway, trying to take his shoes off and fumble for a light switch at the same time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin didn’t need the lamp to find him, instead followed his moon-lit silhouette with silent, trained footsteps. He took Arthur by surprise, the later gasping when Merlin’s fingers threaded through his hair, capturing his open mouth. He dragged Arthur backwards, towards his bedroom, towards the already unmade bed. Dragged him into it, between his legs, down on top of him, felt the weight of Arthur on his chest, grounding him in this moment that felt anything but grounded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur barely managed to get one of Merlin’s legs out of his boxers before he was fumbling with the button on his trousers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It flew open on its own, and before his mind could register that it was Merlin’s doing, he was on his back, Merlin’s lips around his half-hard cock, working him up to full mast.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He flipped Merlin then, sliding off the bed and sinking to his knees at the edge. He dragged him forward by the crooks of his knees, a thumb seeking out Merlin’s entrance in the dark. “Should I…” He could barely get the words out before his thumb sunk into him, already stretched and slick.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked up to Merlin, whose eyes had just flashed a shock of gold. His jaw dropped, he crawled back on top of him without a moment's hesitation, fully sheathing himself in a single thrust.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“F</span>
  <em>
    <span>uck</span>
  </em>
  <span>ing </span>
  <em>
    <span>hell</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” Merlin gasped, fingernails biting into the meat of Arthur’s shoulders, his back arching off the mattress.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Merlin, I-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do it again.” He moaned, hooking an ankle behind Arthur’s back, forcing him deeper.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur obeyed, losing himself in Merlin's tight heat, in his scent, in the heady idea of fully withdrawing and burying himself inside. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their lips hovered millimeters apart, brushing together each time their hips met, until Merlin's head tipped back in a silent moan. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The pace of Arthur's hips began to stutter and quicken, unthinkingly spilling within before collapsing atop Merlin, chest to heaving chest as they caught their breath together. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"did… Did you?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin shook his head as he stroked Arthur's back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Let me?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He has no way of knowing what he was referring to, what he could mean, but he nodded anyway. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur gradually softened within him as he stroked him to completion, streaking his nice shirt with strips of cum. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur was in the shower when Merlin awoke, naked and tangled up in sweat slick sheets. He must’ve taken off his shirt sometime in the night, but never had the sense to come out from under the covers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The water shut off and Arthur emerged in a cloud of steam, towel wrapped around his waist.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Morning,” Merlin said, rolling over to face him, letting the sheet drape over his hips in a way he hoped was tempting. “I might need a bit of a stretch first, but I think I’m ready for round two.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur didn’t say anything, didn’t even spare a glance for Merlin and his hipbones. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We could get breakfast first.” He offered, watching Arthur stalk from wardrobe to dresser, gradually getting dressed. “Could even have it delivered, we wouldn’t have to get out of b-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It isn’t going to happen again, Merlin.” Arthur’s voice was barely a whisper, but firm and cutting all the same. “It shouldn’t have happened at all.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stared at his back, blinking incredulously. “I- we were both well within our faculties to-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I got caught up in it.” He said, cutting him off again. “I’m getting caught up in all of it. I’m sorry, I led you on, but… I can’t do this anymore.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What remained of Merlin’s smile fell. There never really was a ‘this’, it never got a chance to live. “What do you mean?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Any of this, Merlin. the flat, the team,” It felt like he was going to add a third thing to his list, but he stopped short. “I’ve realised what it would mean, to defy my father and give up my birthright for a stupid game.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Arthur…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So you can tell my father that we caught the guy or whatever. After tonight’s game, I’m going to tell the guys what we did, then you can lift your spell and we can go our separate ways.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ll get your letter of recommendation, don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll have Morgana’s job by the end of the year, you're brilliant." He threw on a hoodie before grabbing keys off the table. "I'll see you at practise."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“God, He’s just such an ass!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And to think I’m risking my career, my live if Uther finds out, our secret, all for his stupid dreams of what? Being a secret football player? If he just admitted he was the King’s son, he’d get a private try out in seconds, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>no</span>
  </em>
  <span>, his stupid ego is so much more important than any  of that!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And to think I thought he might actually want something from me that wasn’t A) My magic or B) my arse, </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>, am I the idiot here, Gana?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She huffed down the phone. “Are we the fools because we don’t see it coming every time? Arthur’s just like his Father, he’d never accept a good thing if it were standing in front of him. They care more about their reputation than anything, as if the Royal Family even </span>
  <em>
    <span>matters</span>
  </em>
  <span> in this day and age.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s celebrity, Morgana.” He sighed, tossing himself onto the bed with a satisfying bounce. “That’s all it is. The worry of a scandal will always outweigh the possibility of any sort of happiness.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Trust me, I know. You think I’d be your boss if Uther didn’t feel bad for disowning me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin nearly choked on his own spit. “I’m sorry, what the fuck are you implying?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uther knocked up my mom.” She said matter of factly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Have you been drinking?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, obviously.” There was the tell tale clinking of ice in glass from the other end. “Doesn’t make it any less true. He likes to keep me close, keep me happy so I don’t fuck up his shit. He’s got this whole daddy-daughter complex about it too, probably because he and Ygraine tried so hard for so long, and my mom pops one out after a few too many vodka tonics. When he found out about my magic he completely flipped, but he can’t do anything about it because he knows I’ll spill, so he stuck me in a basement leading an underground magic spy ring that I can’t talk about.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin groaned. “Why not just defund us? The suspense is killing me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morgana snorted. “He can’t, not without losing me and his grip on our secret. Plus, then everyone would know the real reason he hates us is because we killed his wife.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin nearly choked, again. “Hang on, hang on-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Secret contract, hired us to help Ygraine get pregnant. Some woman, Nimue I think, did some dark shit, I’m talking blood magic, life for a life magic to make it happen. So now Uther’s put himself in a tight spot, he can’t defund the department without the DOD knowing about his under the table contract, and he can’t completely dissolve us without pissing off his bastard daughter and forcing her to reveal his </span>
  <em>
    <span>other </span>
  </em>
  <span>big secret.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin exhaled slowly. “That explains Arthur’s obsession with my magic. He’s probably trying to figure out what it has to do with his mom.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She laughed so loudly he had to pull the phone away from his ear. “That’s cute.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Elaborate.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He asked for you, Merlin.” She managed through her residual laughter. “He didn’t ask for any agent, he asked for you, by name. Well, kinda. Said he wanted the dark haired twink with the funny name, but I knew who he meant.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, you-” She hiccupped. “You apparently saved him from something awhile back, something small, but you froze time or sped yourself up or something to pull him out of the way before he died. That’s when he found out about magic, about the division, and he’s been obsessed ever since.” there was slurping on the other end. "Where is he anyway? Can't he hear you in that shoebox?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck…” Merlin whispered under his breath. “Gana, I gotta go.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hung up before he could hear her response. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~*~ </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was less than a fifteen minute window from the moment that Merlin arrived to the moment that it happened. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He felt it, sensed it, anticipated it just before he saw anything. The hair on the back of his neck prickled, his stomach dropping as an unfamiliar presence crept into his awareness.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur and the lads weren’t even aware that he’d arrived, he stood too high in the bleachers for them to see him, much less the figure not ten rows down, cloaked in an unseasonably thick trench coat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin’s training kicked in the moment he saw the gun.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He muttered the first spell that came to his mind, a tidal wave of magic throwing the man violently from one tier of seats to the next one down. Merlin himself darted down to the spot where he had stood, leaping over rows of seats, arriving just in time to see the mysterious assailant meet the bottom.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sickening crack of his body meeting concrete drew the attention of the team. Arthur, slack jawed, immediately started towards the steps, only to be met with an invisible force holding him back, away from Merlin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their eyes met. Arthur mouthed his name, and Merlin shook his head. He turned away, taking the forcefield with him, but he was so far ahead, Arthur could not catch up.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The news of an assassination attempt hit the tabloids the moment it happened. Arthur’s football abscondment came out as well, of course, and the news was eating it up with a spoon. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At least they had a body, a person to corroborate their lie. Some assassin from some extremist group had seen through Merlin’s magic, had decided to take advantage while he could. Now what was left to explain was Manchester.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur went back to his father, of course, and Merlin got the promotion he’d always wanted, coupled with extra paid vacation days that he took </span>
  <em>
    <span>immediately</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Three days after the debacle, he was stood at the mailboxes of his own flat, in slippers and robe, flicking through the mail he’d missed when the paper boy came, setting down a stack on the table in front of him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Prince Arthur Leaves Royal Family, King Enraged</span>
  </em>
  <span> was blazoned across the front. Merlin had barely registered the full sentence before his phone was buzzing in his pajama pocket.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Morgana?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Turn on your TV. Channel 4.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She hung up immediately.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur was on Sunday Brunch. Fucking Sunday Brunch, telling Lovejoy all about the attack, about the football team, about how much fun he’d had, and how it helped him realise that what he and his father do isn’t productive, not for their own wellbeing and certainly not for the country.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I just realized one morning that I hadn’t actually ever done anything on my own merit. I had no idea if I had any worth at all, aside from what my family had given me arbitrarily.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And you made the team!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, and the guys are great, we still keep in contact, but… I realised that wasn’t exactly the kind of recognition I was looking for.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin’s eyes were glued to the television. He hadn’t even sat down, couldn’t, was just standing in the middle of the living room, mail still clutched, crumpled, in one hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll be honest, Tim, I fell in love. I couldn’t tear myself away, and when he finally looked back at me with sincerity, when he looked at me not as a ruler or even as some stupid rich kid, when he saw my potential as me, not as just a prince or even this fake footballer persona… That’s when I knew I was worth something. Even if it’s just to one person, I was worth something on my own merit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin dropped the mail, scrambling for his phone and dialing Arthur’s number as quickly as he could find stability in his fingers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not two seconds after he hit the call button, Arthur’s ringtone was blasting from the other side of his front door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur answered just as he threw open the door, his voice echoing through the phone on a .3 second delay.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You asshole.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur hung up, sweeping Merlin into his arms automatically. “I’m so sorry, Merlin, I should have told you what was going through my head. To know my father would disown me if I told him, to think that I could live the life I was living, and then to wake up next to you and know I never wanted to wake up without you for the rest of my life… Merlin, I want this with you, I want a life with you, I want to have your babies, if it’s possible, I want everything. I love it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re a fucking idiot.” Merlin said fondly, capturing Arthur’s lips in a deep kiss, a kiss he poured his everything into, his love, his acceptance, his knowledge that whatever happened next, they’d have each other, and that was more than enough to make an open ended life.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Epilogue/ Shameless Sequel Bait Maybe:</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Arthur!” He called from the kitchen, eagerly setting a plate in the center of the kitchen table. “Arthur get in here!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m still in my uniform, can it wait?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ass in the kitchen!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur came stumbling in, still trying to kick off one of his trainers, and sighed when he saw the small cake on the table. “Merlin, I can’t eat that until the end of the season.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin rolled his eyes with a heavy sigh. “One bite won’t kill you.” He said, offering the knife.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur did as he was told, serving himself a slice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The cake was a deep, rich blue with white buttercream frosting, at both of which Arthur turned his nose up. “Why did you put so much food dye in it? What are you going for here, Merlin?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin gave him a soft, knowing smirk.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Realization dawned on Arthur’s face; he dropped the plate and swept Merlin up, hugging him and spinning him around the kitchen joyfully. “Are you? Are you really? How long?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“14 weeks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why didn’t you tell me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin cupped his cheeks, kissing him softly. “I wanted to be sure it was going to stick this time. Plus, I mean, a cake reveal is better than a pregnancy test. Not that it would have even worked.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur rolled his eyes. “I love you, I love you more than I probably should.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“More than some people might want, that’s for sure.” He said ruefully, running his fingers over Arthur’s collar. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The realization hit them both at once, and each swore simultaneously. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh fuck”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> Uther.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>End</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
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